Mark Meltzer Writings: Days 156-164
Letter to Phil Isidore, pg1 :::::: Mark G. Meltzer ::::::P.O. Box 4668 #32890 :::::: New York, N.Y. 10163 Phil Isidore c/o N.U.F.O.S. Baltimore, Md. Dear Phil: We're back under way at long last, after the extended stop in France. Capt. Ferrence has finally re-crewed (an ugly & potentially explosive situation - more on that later.) So it's high time for me to finally tell you what happened @ Reichen- bach.Reichenbachtal, alpine valley in Switzerland near the Reichenbach Falls, on Wikipedia I needed time to recover first. (Still typing hunt + peck until my arm heals.) When I arrived at the Chalet in Valais,Valais, canton of Switzerland, on Wikipedia Celeste wasn't happy to see me. (Got the door slammed in my face, in fact.) I calmed her down; promised I would protect her from every danger. Her mood changed. She's been alone & one the run for a long time. I radioed back to the S.S. Nellie Bly: the boat was stuck in deck until Capt. Ferrence figured out his many problems. So I worked with Celeste's P.I. (Dash Carmady) to lay a trail of false clues to convince Lynch that the lady had gone to Cefalu.Cefalù, city on the coast of Italy, on Wikipedia I intended to intercept Lynch - soon enough. But for the moment, we were free. We headed north towards SchattenhalbSchattenhalb, city in Bern canton of Switzerland, on Wikipedia and toured the falls of the area. The waters pour down the rock -- violent jets fueled by recent storms. I caught her looking at me in the fading sun. I wondered what she was thinking behind those dark eyes. We had separate rooms in MeiringenMeiringen, city in the Bern canton of Switzerland.... I woke the next day to find a note slipped under the door. All the things Celeste thought, but could not say. I went to find her; she'd headed out on the path, alone. I caught up with her on the precarious bridge over the chasm. (cont'd) Letter to Phil Isidore, pg2 :::::::::::Pg. 2 She'd lost 20 years of her life chasing shadows. But this moment was here and now. Shouldn't we hang onto this? - Instead of clinging to the memory, the ghosts: her father, my daughter? Then I heard that booming laugh: "Isn't THIS a picture!" It was Lynch - His jowls bright red in the chill air, his pig-eyes twinkling. I stood between Lynch and Celeste. Behind me, I could feel her breath - rasping between her teeth in nervous bursts. Lynch gloated -- I should have known better than to leave my archives on a docked boat under the protection of a skeleton crew. Lynch had ample time to catch up on all my research. And he had an inkling regarding the key to the last layer of Orrin Lutwidge's puzzle box. Apparently, back in '58, on his way to the 'Frozen Triangle,' Lutwidge made a stopover in Ireland and exclaimed the MS. of Lynch's latest work of outrageous deceit: 'THE SPECTRAL SEA' - A collection of ghost tales of the North Atlantic, Lynch's usual mix of fact & fiction calculated to confound the unwary. Lynch suspected there was some hint of truth buried in this trove of lies & lore - if we put our heads together, we could find it. I refused and he grinned icily. Held up the gun I'd fool- ishly lost in Paris. He aimed at Celeste. He didn't want to hurt her, he said; he just wanted answers. I riffled through the book. The answer was already apparent. But I didn't dare reveal it to him. I knew I couldn't trust him. So I did the dumbest thing possible -- :::::::::::(CONT'D) Letter to Phil Isidore, pg3 ::::::::::::::Page 3 I charged straight at Lynch - trying to use his own massive book as a shield. He fired. The bullet blasted through the pages. Blood flew - but I still had momentum. I smashed into him. Gun went skittering across the bridge. And Celeste grabbed it- We lay there, me and Lynch. My shoulder pouring blood. Him pinioned under me, howling in fury. And her wavering - the gun pointing first at him, then at me - as if she didn't know which to shoot. She closed her eyes - pulled the trigger - an echo rang off the rocks -- Lynch shrieked -- then she dropped the gun like something poisonous... and ran. I stumbled to my feet - hurried after her. Glanced back to see Lynch, flailing - blood pooling out under his legs. I couldn't tell how badly he was hurt - didn't care. All that mattered was her. I slipped and slid down the muddy path. Looked for any trace of her - but she was gone, long gone. I doubled back to the bridge. There was nothing left of Lynch but a smear of blood - red bootprints washing away as the rains returned. There was nothing left for me to do but head back -- I was able to patch myself up and slip away before the locals brought in the gendarmes. Didn't find Celeste - didn't try. So much for my promise to protect her - I put her right in the Red Pawn's path. ::Posting this from the UK today - More later. :::::::::::Yours, :::::::::: Mark Meltzer :::::::::::-Mark Meltzer- Journal, "The Glass Pawn:London" THE GLASS PAWN: LONDON Arrival in port was a risky business - thanks to the incompetence our new rookie "crew". A motley young gang - mostly French, a couple of Germans and a hot-blooded Italian who acts as ring-leader. These long-hairs pass around Mao's little Red Book''Quotations from Chairman Mao, referred to as "The Little Red Book" in western countries, on Wikipedia and something called "La Société du spectacle."The Society of the Spectacle'', book by Guy Debord published in 1967, on Wikipedia They're not interested in running the ship - too busy endlessly checking, re-checking & reloading handguns liberated from the hold. (Capt. Ferrence remains a true believer, but it's clear he's having second thoughts about helping these hoodlums escape whatever justice they dodged in Europe.) A very brief stop in London. Thanks to Lee Wilson Seward, I was able to meet another IOOP member, the "Glass Pawn". Turns out, I knew him by his works... nonsense like 'ANIMAL E.S.P'. and the just- barely helpful 'FROZEN TRIANGLE'. Carleton Rede turned out to be surprisingly down-to-earth. Too down-to-earth in fact - he cheerfully admitted that his membership in OOL's "Pawns" was a lark,an opportunity to gather info for his (admittedly) flakey books. Peculiar attitude towards research: says he only relates the stories he's told, and he refuses to make judgement calls between truth & lies, fact & fiction. Apparently one of his major sources of data was a fellow Pawn - one Mr. Jeremiah Lynch, the Red Pawn himself! Now I'm left wonder- ing, once again, what data I can trust. Got back on board with two prizes: advance copy of Carleton's latest book (hopefully useful?); and an American paper with an alarming headline. Is OOL on the run? What is the Red Pawn up to? References See also *Mark Meltzer *There's Something in the Sea Category:Mark Meltzer Writings Category:Pages with written transcripts